Into the Fire

And buy? And like? And recommend?

These are the questions of writers. If we write this novel, will there actually be people who will want to read it and then read more of our work? How do we truly know if our work is genuine? How can we be objective? What does it take for us to evaluate our work? Are we a good judge of talent period, let alone our own?

We all have varying tastes. Sometimes we will acknowledge when something less than admirable resonates with us, but mostly we want to be associated with making fairly astute judgments of written material. There is no telling what will grab hold and take off in the world of writing novels. While maybe there is a general assumption of some works written by well known authors, any professional worth his salt will tell you it’s a crap shoot. How else can it be explained when inferior writing sells millions of books?
(Which brings up a whole ‘nother argument about quality vs. inferior writing—one we’re not going to address yet again here.)

At some point a person has to decide if he/she can write. This “point”, however, can only come after having learned the basics of the craft. A person has to know fundamental grammar, understand storytelling, and be well read. By “well read” I simply mean the person must be an avid reader. Having read the classics does not necessarily mean you can write in today’s world. How it will help you to have read some of them is to aid in defining who you are as a writer by establishing whose writing you enjoy, appreciate, or detest. The same can be said for reading contemporary authors and finding favorites among them. There’s something exciting about discovering an author who captures your attention—and this can be done by the writing itself or by the story itself. Sometimes it can be either/or, but when it’s both, it’s a bonanza. A reader who favors literary works will put up with a lesser or low key plot, while a reader who’s slanted in favor of action and events will forgo a high level of writing to be tantalized by a vivid story.

A writer will develop a voice borne out of knowledge of the craft. It isn’t something you can copy—if you do, the writing will not hold up in time. It will “feel” forced and out of sync because it’s not original. All of our styles are similar to other writers—how could they not be? Writing has been going on for eons, and “there’s nothing new under the sun”. If we strive and strain to be “different”, chances are we will only arrive at bizarre. Unique is a term reserved for those whose style is generally not easy to categorize because it probably is a meshing of many instead of resembling a few.

I love various writing styles, but I have my limits. As you know, I’m not a fan of Hemingway’s writing, but he was a good storyteller. I could find nothing of pleasure and little to admire of William Faulkner’s writing—the style, the characters, everything I remember about having to read his work was tedious for me. So much so that I would never go back to it to re-evaluate if I might like it now that I’m older. Because what I used to like, I’m sure I would still like. I remember Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca, for example. Not the plot so much as the mystery and mood, the lovely language and description she used, and that was so very long ago. I remember much later loving Ken Kesey’s work—yes, one of the psychedelic generation authors, a member of The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test. “You’re either on the bus or off the bus.” Woo-ooh-ooh. You will remember he wrote One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and Sometimes A Great Notion. Two incredible novels. I loved his writing. And Fitzgerald. And D. H. Lawrence. And Dostoevsky. And many, many more.

Who do I write like? Hmm. I’m not sure I can say. As far as contemporary Christian authors, I could tell you who I write romance like. Not as far as their “structure” or words but as far their approach to it. And since I don’t read secular fiction anymore, I’m not sure what contemporary author I might be similar to in that arena.

What makes me think I can write—at least well enough to possibly appeal to others? Hmm. Is it insane to say because I like the way I write? Is it obnoxious to say I really like the stories I’ve written? Is it absurd to say I think within the category of my work, I could have a fair audience? Is it prideful to say I write well enough to be published? Is all of this alienating to those who are reading this? Is it defiant to say I’ve given my novels to many test readers and gotten favorable results and feedback? Are you tsking at my confessions?

Let me explain—again. I am not creative enough, like many of today’s authors are, to come up with a bunch of ideas for novels. If the Lord doesn’t give me a story, which he initiates in characters first, I have nothing. Zippo. Zero. Zilch. Ideas aren’t floating around in my head all the time. You could say to me, “This would make a good story. Why don’t you write one about this?” And I would stare at you dumbly, no doubt, because I can’t think of idea one in regard to your suggestion. The Lord puts characters in my mind where they generate other characters. I get a few phrases and sit down to write the sentences. More sentences come. More characters come. A story begins. He gets the credit. Not me. And THAT, my friends, is why I like my work. Because the stories, the characters, the messages, are His, not mine.

I’m not the best writer, but I do know the basic craft. I’ve written since I was a child. A lot. My only real interests in school were centered around English and literature. My first novel ended up being over 300,000+ words and took 8 and ½ years to write. Yes, today, it would’ve been shorter. How much shorter I can’t tell you. It is what it is.

I’m not the worst writer either. I know what I like to read and write accordingly. What else can a person say about his work? I’d be a fool to write it and not like it. Right? Seven novels of drivel? What would be the point?

But the question remains, doesn’t it? If I write it . . . will they come?

Father, you are the Creator. You are the source of creation. You get all the credit for works done well. You are the giver of life, good and perfect gifts, opportunities, and dreams. Thank you for all you’ve given me. So much. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

*Please continue to pray for Kristy Dykes.*